especially in the coastwise trade, which is conducted by means of
fore-and-aft schooners, some of which are as large as many ships. The
“W. B. Palmer,” for instance, registers about two thousand tons, with a
carrying capacity of thirty-five hundred, equal to that of the “Hosea
Higgins,” while several range well over fifteen hundred registered
tons. In spite of the encroachments of steam, these mammoth schooners
seem to more than hold their own, as the fleet is constantly being
increased. Ten years ago a vessel like the “Governor Ames,” or any
of the Randalls, paid from twenty to twenty-five per cent., though
the profits are now probably somewhat reduced. The “Ames” has loaded
twenty-five hundred tons of coal at Norfolk in nine hours, which is the
best work on record, as this included trimming, and everything else,
all ready for sea. This phenomenal speed was attained by simultaneously
working the four hatches, rivers of coal continuously sliding into the
hold through the chutes. At Aden and Port Said the steamers are coaled
entirely by hand in quite an interesting manner: A lighter of coal
is secured alongside a steamer, aboard of which is a swarm of black
men, mostly Kroumen, each with a shallow, wicker basket as large as
a dish-pan. As soon as the lighter is made fast two cargo ports are
opened in the steamer’s hull, one forward and one abaft the bunkers.
The men then fill their baskets, which they carry upon their heads, and
march in single file through the forward port, empty their baskets as
they pass the bunkers without pausing, and issue from the after-opening
into the lighter, where a freshly-filled basket awaits each. So great
is the number of men that a solid black stream passes through the
steamer; and though each basket holds but twenty pounds of coal, it is
loaded into the bunkers at the rate of one hundred tons per hour. On
our return from India in a P. and O. steamer through the Red Sea we
coaled thus at Aden, by electric light; the weather was drizzly (itself
a curiosity), and when the moisture condensed on the naked, sooty backs
of the Kroumen, they appeared as though clad in a mail of sparkling
jet; and as they maintained a dismal chant throughout the process, the
whole scene resembled a picture from the land of gnomes and pixies.
Latitude, 35° 50′ north; longitude, 139° 20′ west.
+September 11+
The winter of our discontent is now at its height. Vainly do we
endeavor to make easting; we cannot, for the wind for a long time has
been at northeast instead of between north and west, as it should
be. At four this morning, exasperated beyond endurance, I heard the
skipper growl to the mate, “We’ll let her go round, anyway; maybe we’ll
fetch Cape San Lucas.” We did make good an easterly course for a while,
but at five we broke off to east-southeast, which, with the variation,
was southeast three-quarters east, a preposterous course; so we went
around again at eight, and are still pegging away on the starboard
tack, making good north by west, and only twenty miles south of ’Frisco.
Every opportunity the dour Scot has for conversation now he embraces.
At seven last evening, sitting on the main-hatch, he said, “I’ll bet
you never heard what ‘Long John’ (Pettersen) said to the mate one night
off Cape Horn; ’twas that night when we had the worst snow-squalls. I
dunno what the row was about, but Mr. Goggins called John up on the
poop and began to blackguard him; then he let him have it once or twice
in the face about as hard as I ever saw, and was just goin’ to kick him
down the poop-ladder, when down jumps Long John on the main-deck, turns
around and yells, ‘You come down here and I’ll break yer ---- ----
neck!’ and he’d ’a done it, too. What did Mr. Goggins do? Walked aft
and looked into the binnacle. ‘That settles you in my mind, me buck,’
says I to meself. I don’t believe he had a right to hit John, for, if I
do say so, he’s the willingest sailor I ever had to do with; but when
John dared him to come down off the poop---- Well, that’s the sort o’
stuff the mate’s made of; he hasn’t got the sand of a worm. But look,
sir, I want to tell ye somethin’ more about the Australian packets.
The best and finest voyage I ever had in all me life was in one o’
those ships, the ‘Loch Rannoch.’” (I love to hear MacFoy roll out his
sonorous Scottish names.) “We had a hundred and eighteen passengers,
most o’ them, of course, in the ’tween-decks, which was fitted up wi’
bunks for ’em. Oh! but we had the fun that passage, though the rules
are strict, just like in the navy, and well they need be. The emigrants
can’t go either forrad or aft o’ certain limits, all lights are out at
eight in the evenin’, no smokin’ after that hour, and in heavy weather
none o’ them are allowed on deck. In the Southern Ocean, runnin’ our
eastin’ down, the hatches were battened for two weeks, and all the
air the people got was thro’ the ventilators. When such emigrants get
to Melbourne they have to report at Government House, and things are
fixed so they can pay their passage-money in instalments. The men are
generally a pretty decent, well-conducted lot; but the women,--oh,
Lord! the women! Some o’ them’s amazons, and that’s a fact. I remember
one that we had on board had the whole ship in a hurrah till one day
Cap’n Skene ordered her aft to talk to her. I mind the time well: the
cap’n, a fat, short, little man in blue and brass buttons wi’ podges
on his shoulders, as vain as a turkey, but a good seaman, was talkin’
to a couple o’ first-class passengers when this lassie was led aft,
and he turned with a frown to size her up like. ‘Well, mutton-face,
who’re ye lookin’ at?’ says she; and then, without givin’ him time for
a word, she bawled at him, ‘D’ye know what I think o’ you? You’re no
more good than a hoot down a dumb-waiter shaft.’ She said she was no
bloomin’ sailor, and she’d have the run o’ the ship if she liked; and,
will you believe it, they had to put the irons on her, she got that
bad. We used to have great singin’ in the dog-watches. Man, ’twould ha’
done yer heart good to see us sailors a-sittin’ on the forecastle-head,
thirty of us, and pretty soon we’d start a chanty and keep it up for
ten minutes; and no sooner would we stop than a score of emigrants
amidships would take it up, the women’s and men’s voices soundin’
fine together, till it was most as good as a concert. You’d better
believe it, though, that it takes strict discipline to keep a hundred
and fifty people in order for three months.”
“See here, MacFoy,” said I, when he had finished. “I want you to answer
me a straight question; is this a hard ship on the men?”
“Why, no, of course it’s not,” he answered.
“Well, Mr. Rarx told me that once, but I didn’t know whether to believe
him or not,” said I.
“I can just tell you, she’s the quietest Yankee ship _I_ ever
sailed in,” observed David; “why, there’s been no blood flyin’ at all
to amount to much. The men can’t make it out; there hasn’t one o’
them been clouted now goin’ on three weeks. But I can tell you why it
is; it’s all on account o’ you and your wife. The old man won’t let
out before ye, but I’ve often seen him hold on tight to himself and
just swear instead o’ knockin’ the feller end-wise. Yes, Mr. Rarx was
right when he told ye this was an easy ship.” Latitude, 37° 18′ north;
longitude, 139° 50′ west.
+September 12+
Hurrah for California! Hurrah for the north wind! Our bowsprit is at
last pointing towards the brown crags of the Golden Gate. At the change
of the watch at midnight we heard the captain sing out, “All hands on
deck; tack ship.” A few moments later came “Put your hellum down”; and
a moment afterward he called out “Hellum’s a-lee”; yet another minute
or two and “Maintop-sail haul” split the air. A dead silence followed
as the men cast off the braces, and then the heavy yards clattered
noisily around, followed by the agreeable sound of ropes running over
patent sheaves (always pronounced shivs); and finally, “Let go and
haul” went ringing forward, the head-yards swung round, and in ten
minutes more the ship was braced up on the port tack, heading somewhat
to the northward of east. All continued to go well, and we are now
doing seven knots.
At 10.30 this +A.M.+, as we were watching the mate reeve a new
log-line on the “cherub,” I heard Kelly at the wheel say “Sst, sst,”
and looking where he pointed, lo! a sail appeared well above the
horizon on the lee bow. The glasses resolved her into a three-masted
fore-and-aft schooner on the starboard tack; and we presently perceived
that she was rigged with pole-masts and a spike bowsprit, being the
first vessel of the sort I ever saw. It makes a very serviceable
rig, not so picturesque as fidded topmasts and slender jib-boom, but
powerful and able looking, which count for more in a seaman’s eye than
æsthetic beauty.
Before long it became apparent that if neither of us shifted the helm
there would be a collision; and as we were on the port tack, we should
be the one to alter our course; but then the other vessel was only
a schooner, so this would never enter the mind of a square-rigger
skipper. Sure enough, although the other had the right of way, she
shifted her wheel and we passed across her bows, not more than a
cable’s length away. She was the “Sequoia,” of San Francisco, three
hundred and twenty-five tons, and was probably bound up to Puget
Sound from a southern Californian port. Observe how hard it is to
make northing as well as easting here at this season, when vessels
are obliged to stand off shore twenty degrees in order to reach up,
and the “Sequoia” hadn’t tacked ship yet to fetch in. I never before
saw a fore-and-aft schooner a thousand miles off shore, though there
are small two-masters that trade between Newfoundland and Spain, and
between Boston and the Bight of Benin.
As we passed the “Sequoia,” all hands aboard of her crowded to the side
to see us; and we probably made a splendid picture as we swept by, only
two or three hundred yards away, under all possible canvas. The captain
and mate declared that her name was pronounced “Sequina”; ship-masters
often have the most remarkable pronunciations even for well-known ports
and landmarks, and they cling to them with dogged tenacity.
Last night we had another new dish for supper,--cream toast. This
sounds odd, I expect, but it was simply delicious; it is true that,
as in the case of the rarebits the other evening, the bread was not
all that could be desired; but by using _unsweetened_ condensed
Swiss cream, thinned a little with water, it proved to be a most savory
dish, though an expensive one for the ship, as an entire can has to be
used each time. In truth, if made thus, it tastes far better than if
fresh milk is used, as the great fault with ordinary milk toast lies in
its flatness and insipidity; but the Swiss cream, being very rich and
perfectly pure, is eminently adapted to this purpose. It sticks in my
mind that this ought to be a hint for housewives.
Already we have begun to estimate precisely when we will reach port; if
we do it in six days, or by next Saturday, it will mean only a hundred
and fifty miles a day, or six and a half per hour, which we should do
without trouble if we do not fall to leeward of the Farallones.
Mr. Rarx is still very feeble, and will evidently have to be carried
ashore. Latitude, 38° 10′ north; longitude, 139° 10′ west.
+September 13+
A magnificent day, though not quite so much wind as we would like to
have. Up to ten this morning we did passably well, but since then it
has been pretty light, though there is a bank of wool-packs rising
in the west, foretelling more wind from that desirable quarter. We
made three degrees of departure, and to our chagrin, not to say
consternation, fifty-eight miles of southing; this latter must be due,
we think, to an error in our previous dead reckoning, as we hadn’t
had the sun for two days, and the currents here are often strong. A
line drawn from yesterday’s alleged noon position to that of to-day
passes directly over the reputed Reed Rocks; but as we are by no means
sure of yesterday’s work, we cannot on that account positively deny
their existence. They were first reported about fifty years ago by one
Reed, an American mariner; but as the British admiralty charts do not
acknowledge the presence of the rocks, and as our own charts have D
marked beneath them, meaning doubtful, it is probable that, if they
ever did exist, they have now disappeared.
It is worthy of mention that the total cost of running and maintaining
a ship like the “Hosea Higgins” for one year amounts to an average of
twenty-five thousand dollars. In New York alone the bills that Captain
Scruggs had to pay before we went to sea amounted to almost fifteen
thousand dollars, though this was a somewhat excessive amount, owing
to the putting in of a new bowsprit and fore lower mast, which, with
the rigger’s bill, footed up a total of two thousand dollars. Here is
a list of the accounts rendered: Riggers, stores, stevedore, foremast,
blacksmith, wharfage, advance to men, ship-chandler, sail-maker,
tow-boat, pilot, shipwright, tonnage dues, butcher (fresh meat).
In San Francisco there will be an equally heavy account, as a new
mizzen lower mast will be shipped there; and when the “Higgins”
arrives back at New York she will have to be thoroughly overhauled and
repaired, being of the age of fifteen years. Wooden vessels are classed
A 1 for that period and no longer without a complete renovation, and
she is then reclassed; iron vessels are rated A 1 for a much longer
period. The list of firms above enumerated would not be complete,
however, without mentioning the cooper’s bill. This is sometimes quite
large for repairs made to cases, barrels, etc., on account of damage
sustained while loading, at sea, or discharging. Goods must always be
delivered in first-rate condition. Yet, in spite of the heavy running
expenses, this ship averages fifteen and sixteen per cent. profit;
and there is one very large iron four-masted ship, belonging to the
keenest ship-owner in New York, which regularly pays a twenty per
cent. annual dividend. Nearly all American sailing ships pay well; but
the greatest profits that I know of in late years have been made by a
British eleven-knot tramp steamer, whose name I cannot remember. This
vessel for the last four years has paid the owners an average annual
profit of thirty-four per cent. Much of this is, of course, due to the
vessel’s happening to strike the various markets at exactly the right
time, though there must be a good, sharp business head to the concern
to achieve such an astonishing result. It is said, however, that the
majority of British sailing ships are not good money-makers. Latitude,
37° 12′ north; longitude, 136° 15′ west.
+September 14+
A magnificent breeze that has driven us along at nearly nine knots has
blown steadily from the north-northeast for twenty-four hours, giving
us an easterly course by compass. But, alas! the point and a half of
variation and another half-point of leeway force us to steer about
east-southeast true. We made a whole degree of southing in consequence,
and are now ninety miles south of ’Frisco Heads. If we have to tack
ship it will be a piece of outrageous luck; and if the ship doesn’t
come up three points by noon to-morrow, that’s just what we will have
to do.
Last Sunday, as I was talking to some of the men forward, Broadhead
spoke of the Yellowstone Park, and he chanced to mention that a
friend of his had spent his honeymoon in that delectable locality,
adding that, of course, everything looked particularly rosy even for
the Yellowstone. Conversation then changed, when all at once I found
the eyes of Jimmie Rumps fixed upon me, and a moment later he said,
wistfully and earnestly, “I should think it must be just grand to go
on a honeymoon.” Rumps, it might be added, would make an excellent
cabin-boy on a yacht; but as bosun of a large ship, it would be
difficult to find one more thoroughly incompetent than he is. There are
at least a dozen of the men before the mast who are far better sailors
than he, and seamanship is a _sine qua non_ in a bosun as well as
in a second mate.
Another speech of one of the men afforded us a little amusement this
forenoon. As my wife stepped to the binnacle to learn the course, the
old man having just gone below with his sextant, Paddy, the merry,
humorous young Irishman, was steering; but instead of his usual jolly
smile, his face indicated the most extreme dejection. So, to cheer him
up, my wife nodded to him and remarked, “We’ll soon be in, Paddy.”
“Yes, mum, I know,” he replied, “but I got gum-boils now”; to show that
variety had been vouchsafed him in his afflictions, as he has only just
recovered from the worst sea-boils in the ship.
It may not be very widely known that in the United States there are
several competent women ship-mistresses, as I suppose they ought to
be called. I don’t mean women who understand more or less about the
handling of vessels, but those who are entirely capable and have
received their certificates for steamers from the government. The
first woman to pass the examination in this country was a Mrs. George
Miller, of New Orleans, and it was the late Justice Folger, at the time
Secretary of the Treasury, who, after mature deliberation, decided that
a woman could legally, if she passed the severe examination necessary
to command a steam-vessel, assume the responsible position of captain.
Since then several women in the United States have obtained master’s
licenses and have demonstrated their ability to handle steamers; but
the woman-captain of a square-rigger has not yet appeared on the
horizon, though many long-voyage captains’ wives are almost, if not
quite, as capable navigators and seamen as their husbands.
The British Board of Trade, however, has positively refused to allow a
member of the gentler sex to appear before it for examination. A test
case recently came up when the daughter of an English marquess applied
to that institution for master’s papers. This lady pointed out that she
simply desired to command her own yacht, which she was quite capable of
doing, and did not wish to have anything to do with any other vessel;
but the Board of Trade’s answer to her application was that it would
not permit a woman to be examined for a master’s certificate, as the
word master implicitly specified that men alone were eligible. Shortly
afterward the marquess’s daughter married an Irish merchant captain,
and at the present time is no doubt ably assisting her husband in
the navigation of the splendid ship which he has the good fortune to
command. Latitude, 36° 21′ north; longitude, 132° 30′ west.
+September 15+
This is the second of my wife’s birthdays that we have passed at
sea, as three years ago we celebrated one in the “Mandalore” in
37° south, 16° east; and to commemorate this occasion we have had
very strong northerly winds, with heavy puffs, a clear sky, and a
rough but magnificent sea, with the ship bounding through it under
the maintop-gallant-sail, bursting the spray high up to windward in
drenching showers as she shoulders her way through the great creaming
billows. How superb and proud they look, their snow-white, downy crests
standing pompously forth against the azure sky, with intervening
valleys of that wonderful blue which imparts such a fascination to the
scene! We love nothing better than to pick out a particularly tall sea
when it is still a quarter of a mile away on the bow. On it comes, as
resistless as time; now hidden as the ship drops into a hollow, now
soaring above its fellows as some grand, snowy peak towers over its
pine-clad neighbors. Nearer and yet nearer it approaches, challenging
combat as it comes, the vessel half advancing to meet it. And now it
is right alongside, and hangs menacingly thirty feet above the ship,
and the spray scattered from its glistening summit flies overhead in a
swirling cloud, and a rainbow spans for an instant the streaming decks.
It seems impossible that the vessel can clear the swift rush of the
great billow; but just as it gathers itself for the assault the ship,
with a heavy lurch to leeward, presents a high, copper-sheathed wall to
the seething flood, and before you know it you have passed the crest of
the huge wave and are sliding smoothly and noiselessly into the quiet
valley beyond.
We have just cause for rejoicing, too, for the ship has come up two
whole points since midnight, and we are now steering east-northeast by
compass; two more points to the northward and we can fetch to windward
of the Farallones. The captain seems wonderfully positive that we will
fetch in all right, and when he expresses himself so surely, which he
seldom does, we always feel pretty certain of the chances being in our
favor.
I haven’t mentioned Mr. Rarx for some time. He has not been doing at
all well, eats hardly six ounces of food a day, and he has withered
away to a wraith of his former self; an idea of this may be gained
from the captain’s estimate that he has lost at least forty pounds.
The impression grows that Louis will be cleared in court, this opinion
being held even by the skipper, for the men say that the second mate
knocked Karl down with a maul besides the block, and there are three
others who can bring damaging evidence against Mr. Rarx. But I am very
much afraid that the mellifluous voices of the crimps when they swarm
aboard in San Francisco harbor will exercise a somewhat different
influence upon their opinions. I should like to see a ship-master with
the courage to prevent the entrance of these crimps into his vessel;
but if he did so and had them all kicked over the side into the harbor,
as they ought to be, what a time this ship-master would have getting a
crew together when he was next ready for sea! For not a boarding-master
in the city would let him have a man.
If sailors would only hold together when they get ashore and testify
against the bad treatment that they get at sea, nine-tenths of the
villains who officer our deep-water-men would now be contemplating
existence behind grated windows. If we had any doubts as to this
particular ship’s being worse in its treatment of the men than the
average Yankee, they were further dispelled by a remark of Jack
Nickalls, an unobtrusive little sailor, and a good one: “This ship’s a
peach compared to them wot I’ve been in.” Louis is fairly cheerful and
conducts himself remarkably well. Latitude 36° 1′ north; longitude,
128° 20′ west.
+September 16+
To our very great astonishment, the wind increased very rapidly
yesterday afternoon, and by three o’clock it was blowing a strong
gale from the northward, with a cloudless sky. Several exciting
incidents marked the day, the first of which occurred at the above
hour. I had just gone on deck when suddenly there was a most tremendous
clatter forward, and in another second down fell the big maintop-mast
stay-sail, hanging outboard so as to just touch the water, as, of
course, it was blown to leeward by the gale. From beyond the head,
which was that part that hung down, extended about six feet of the
heavy iron wire stay which had parted, and there instantly began the
most terrible slatting that I have ever heard or seen. It was nothing
short of fearful. There was a heavy sea running, and as the ship would
lay far over every few moments the wind would gather up the sail,
blow it out horizontally to leeward, and then jerk it back and forth,
up and down, seemingly in every direction at the same instant, with
appalling fury, the iron wire dashing now against the main-backstays,
now against the bulwarks, now full into the bunt of the main-sail, with
a force that was awful and made you hold your breath as the weapon was
flung against the backstays with the crack of a pistol. I have seen
slatting before when the gear of large racing yachts carried away; but
it was not to be spoken of in the same breath with that of to-day. It
was as if the power of the universe was concentrated in the twisting,
bounding, whirling stay-sail; and the sailors stood aghast, for it was
certain death to approach.
The captain was asleep when the stay parted, but he was on deck in
a few seconds, and instantly ordered the helm hard up, so as to get
the ship before the wind and prevent further destruction, for the
main-rigging couldn’t have stood the thrashing much longer. Slowly
the ship paid off, but five minutes passed until she was running free
before the big, smoking seas, for we had started nothing, but had
simply put the helm up. Meanwhile the slashing continued, and at last
the wire burst through the main-sail and made a gaping rent in the
after-leech. How the whole lee side of the sail escaped is marvellous;
but when we were dead before the wind four hands simultaneously seized
the heaving sail, and by heroic work finally got it muzzled after
fifteen minutes of most courageous efforts.
No sooner was it secured and the ship on her course again than the
old man sung out, “Clew up the main-t’-ga’nt-s’l.” There was a rush
to the clew-lines and halliards; but somebody slacked away something
too quickly for the zephyr that was whispering aloft, for there came a
crackling report, and the top-gallant-sail at once was transformed into
canvas pennants. A varied assortment of profanity tinged the atmosphere
for quite half an hour, as a new sail had to be bent, and no one who
has not seen a sail shifted in a gale of wind can form any true idea of
the hard labor entailed in the process. So, leaving the uninitiated to
picture it as well as he can, I must go on to describe something that
occurred which more nearly concerned ourselves.